


P-U-R-P-L-E, Purple's What That Spells

by BeneficialAddiction



Series: Boxers, Briefs, and Other Shorts [26]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Phil Coulson, Clint Barton Feels, Fluff, M/M, Perfect Date, Phil Coulson is a troll, Pranks and Practical Jokes, SHIELD Husbands, Slushies, dog park, slurpees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeneficialAddiction/pseuds/BeneficialAddiction
Summary: P-U-R-P-L-E, Purple, Purple.P-U-R-P-L-E, Purple's what that spells.Purple grapes on the vine,Purple Kool-aid's fine.P-U-R-P-L-E, Purple's what that spells.





	P-U-R-P-L-E, Purple's What That Spells

There are many things in the world that Clint Barton has come to love. Easy things, simple things, like good pizza and cute dogs and sleeping in on the weekends. He's a guy who knows how to appreciate the little things; slushies, pranking Tony Stark, the color purple... 

Oh, and Level 7 Agent of SHIELD and grade-A badass, Phillip J Coulson. 

Clint doesn't know how he got so lucky, but sometimes, every once in a while, all those things come together. 

The alarm clock that Clint never uses reads ten-thirty-two when Phil crawls into his bed and starts pressing kisses to his chin and jaw. It's Saturday, their third anniversary, and he hadn't thought his husband would make it back for another week from his latest mission, supervising his new ducklings on a milk-run. Needless to say he's pleasantly surprised to wake up to a horny hubby when he'd gone to sleep alone the night before. 

Mutual blowjobs start the morning off right and Clint has the pleasure of buttoning Phil back up into his secret-agent-suit before they wander downstairs to the common room for brunch with the rest of the Avengers. None are the wiser except for Natasha, who was there when they finally tied the knot on a mission-gone-wrong in Puerto Rico and who has suffered through their 'hideous afterglow' ever since. 

She claims she holds her tongue because it's, quote, "better than the pining." 

It's not that they're hiding it. Not from the team anyway. The bad guys, yeah, of course; they don't need to know that Hawkeye has a glaring weakness, even greater than that he has in the Black Widow. Everybody else, well, it's just kind of habit. They're both private people, don't wear rings, and their version of PDA would get them both arrested, so they tend to try to keep their hands to themselves unless they're behind closed doors. 

Clint's kind of a cuddly bastard anyway. He snuggles with Natasha when she lets him, sits close to Bruce's calming presence, presses against Tony's side and wraps his arm around Steve's shoulders. 

If he gravitates around Phil like a planet around the sun, no one notices. 

Besides, what with the way Strike Team Delta operates, it would be weird if he didn't. 

Case in point, the way Phil manages to get them out of the Tower with no more than half a glance of interest from any of the other Avengers. 

Just mention SHIELD HQ and some overdue paperwork and they're out the door and gone. 

It's that kind of competence that caught Clint's attention in the first place all those years ago. 

They spend the afternoon walking hand-in-hand through a couple of dog parks, chatting up the owners for permission to pet and play. They'd talked about getting a dog of their own a while back but they haven't quite worked out all the logistics yet, so for now they do this, a sort of dog-for-a-day thing where they get to play tussle and tag and games of fetch till everyone's worn out. Collapsing under a tree Clint dozes for a bit with his head in Phil's lap, fingers carding gently through his hair, and everything's right with the world. 

They head to a little hole-in-the-wall Italian place they found six or seven years ago and stand in line at the counter to place an order for stone-baked pizza. Phil's wearing jeans – he keeps a pair in his car for days like this, when they want to sneak off for some casual fun – and Clint is careful to stand behind him so he can admire the view. Phil knows, of course he knows, even if Clint is trying to be a little bit subtle, but it's part of it, reminds Clint of the old days before he'd gotten up the courage to do something about the way he felt. 

Not that he'd preferred those days you understand, but they hold a certain nostalgia, even today. 

They swing by a 7-11 on the way back to the Tower to grab Slurpees for the walk back, an icy treat as the sun starts going down and the heat of the day finally begins to break. Clint keeps hold of Phil's hand right up until they hit the lobby, rubbing his thumb subconsciously over his husband's left ring finger. They discretely step away from each other as they walk to the Avengers' private elevators, but as soon as the doors slide shut Phil's lips are pressed against his, cold and sweet. 

Clint loves this part of him too. 

The part that is so desperate, so caring, so passionate and fiery and sexy that by the time the short trip up to the common floor is over Clint is feeling well and thoroughly attended to, his mouth tingling. 

He follows Phil in a bit of a daze into the shared kitchen, so they can check in with Jarvis and the team and make sure nothing crazy happened while they were out. He's running his tongue around and around his straw when Tony walks in, being pointedly ignored by his husband who is now checking his emails on the interface built in to the door of their high-tech mega fridge. Stark cocks an eyebrow at him, half-scowl telling Clint everything he needs to know about how long the genius has been locked down in his lab without a break. 

"Why is your tongue purple?" he demands, squinting at Clint like this is a phenomenon he can't understand. "Did you find a _grape-flavored_ Slurpee? That's gross Katniss." 

"Blue-raspberry," Clint corrects, tilting his cup so Tony can peer suspiciously at the electric blue drink inside. "And excuse you, grape slush would be amazing." 

Tony's grimace only grows. 

"So how did..." 

Phil uses that exact moment to take a long, noise slurp of the last of his own slushie, Cherry-Cola flavored and bright red. Clint has to bite his lip when Tony goes stock-still, blinking like he thinks he's hallucinating things again, like that time with the Tweety-birds. 

"Wait..." he mumbles, his finger moving slowly between the two of them, "Yours is..." 

"Excuse us Mr. Stark," Phil says neatly, side-stepping him and putting his hand flat on the small of Clint's back, pushing him back toward the elevators. "Agent Barton and I have some more... paperwork to go over." 

Clint's laughing by the time the elevator doors slide shut again, his hand curling around the nape of Phil's neck to reel him in as Tony shrieks something about _purple paperwork_ from the kitchen.


End file.
